


A Matter of Priorities

by therealfroggy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Food Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/therealfroggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paperwork... or sex with his boyfriend? Wilson just can't decide!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Priorities

Paperwork. Wilson groaned, turning another page to sign another discharge form. There were prescription forms, discharge forms, things to sign for working overtime and for switching shifts... A week's collection of forms and papers to read and sign. Things had just been piling up while he was helping House and his team on their latest case (a Danish tourist with a rare case of the pox), and now he had to deal with the backlash.

Wilson rubbed his temples gently. He needed coffee.

***

“What are you still doing here?”

Wilson felt his eyebrows climb towards his hairline. House – Gregory House the man – was standing in his doorway, twirling his cane. At ten past eleven pm.

“You're always out the door three minutes to five, unless you've got someone dying in your office,” Wilson insisted, scribbling his name at the bottom of a duplicate prescription form. “The case is solved, the Danish tourist is on his way home – why are you still here?”

“Couldn't sleep,” House said, stomping into the room. “Something was missing in my apartment, and I just couldn't put my finger on it.”

Wilson's eyes almost came out of his head. “You went home... and _came back_?”

House shrugged, sitting down in the other chair. “Went to bed, even. Had to get back up.”

And Wilson noticed then that House was wearing a different teeshirt. He wasn't joking.

“Where are the flying pigs?” Wilson said, incredulous. He dropped his pen, peering into his coffee cup. “The snowballs in Hell? Or was there something fishy in my coffee?”

House looked affronted. “Don't be an ass; I told you, I couldn't sleep. _Something_ was missing.”

Wilson sat back, completely put out. “What?”

“You,” House said simply, reaching into his breast pocket and withdrawing the familiar orange box.

Wilson couldn't speak. He just sat there, staring at the other man. Gaping like a fish out of water.

“So, I figured I could go back and drag you away from whatever's keeping you,” House said, swallowing a Vicodin. “Well?”

Wilson laughed then; laughed incredulously and threw his hands up. “House, you never cease to amaze me.”

The older man grinned. “I know; I'm just full of surprises. You coming?”

Wilson shook his head, still smiling widely. “Nope. Can't. I have all this paperwork, you see; it's high priority.”

House put on his faux stunned face. “What, and miss out on positively mind-blowing sex with me? Jimmy, you wound me. And I've bought chocolate sauce and everything!”

Despite himself, Wilson felt his throat go dry and his body stir. “Chocolate sauce?”

House pulled a bottle out of his pocket, brandishing it at the younger man. “Dark with cinnamon. My favourite kind.”

Wilson groaned. When House bought his own favourite, that meant he would be eating it. And Wilson highly enjoyed being used as a plate.

“House, I can't! I have to finish these; look, I've only got these left. It won't take long. Just wait, okay?” Wilson said, by now very eager to get home and have fun with House's taste buds.

“But I don't want to wait,” House said, getting up. “You have five minutes. If you're not down in the garage when I get on my bike, we're not playing.”

Wilson gave another groan, letting his head sink into his hands. “House, I'll be stuck with this for another week! The pile will be twice as big! Come on, just ten more minutes!”

“Five,” House said happily, getting to his feet. “I'll be down by the bike.”

***

Wilson came bursting out of the hospital and into the garage five minutes and ten seconds later. House was already seated on his bike, helmet held out for Wilson to put on.

“What?” Wilson said, heaving for breath. He'd run most of the way. “I'm not riding with you; I got the car parked just -”

“Get on, or I'm hanging the stethoscope when I get home,” House threatened, then dipped a hand back in his pocket and let Wilson have a flash of the bottle of sauce.

Wilson glared at the older man. “If you make _one_ sharp turn, I'll kill you.”

He put on the helmet, then straddled the motorcycle behind House. House took his hands and pulled them tighter around his own waist, and Wilson smiled. He felt the heat of the other man seep through the leather jacket and his own shirt. They took off, heading for House's place.

***

It occurred to Wilson, as he followed House inside, that he had just left off a pile of top priority paperwork to go home with House and have kinky sex.

“You know, I have to get my priorities in order,” he said, dropping the helmet to the floor.

“I know; you were about to waste an evening that should be spent in my bed doing unspeakably fun things,” House said, stomping towards the bedroom. “Good thing I saved you.”

“That was top priority work,” Wilson said, dropping his coat as he went. He left the rest on; he knew House loved taking his tie off. House hated the ties.

“And here I was, thinking our relationship had the highest priority of all,” House said, looking hurt.

Wilson gaped. Relationship? House had consistently referred to it as a _deep friendship_ (and Wilson grinned sheepishly every time, knowing both of them had naughty connotations to the word _deep_ ), and now they had a relationship?

“Well, let's get down to business,” House said, dropping his cane before beginning to shed clothing at an efficient rate.

“Wait, wait,” Wilson said, placing his hands on his hips. “Relationship? I was missing from your apartment? What's going on?”

“I want sex, that's what's going on,” House said, retrieving the chocolate sauce before sitting gingerly down on the bed, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. “On the bed, Jimmy.”

Wilson got on the bed, but didn't do anything to help as House began undoing his tie and his shirt buttons. “There's got to be something!” he insisted, not even reacting as House eased the shirt from his shoulders. “And on top of it all, you got your favourite chocolate sauce!”

“And you'll be wearing it in ten minutes, so stop moaning about it,” House said with a grin. “Well... Stop moaning like that.”

“I'm not complaining; House, you know I... oh.”

House had popped the cap on the bottle with his thumb, and was already letting a thin stream of chocolate run down over Wilson's shoulder. “Don't move, Jimmy; you'll get chocolate everywhere.”

Wilson sat perfectly still while House's tongue slowly swiped at the chocolate running down over his shoulder and pectorals. Once it was all gone, he turned House's face so he could kiss the older man.

“Our relationship does have top priority,” Wilson conceded, smiling slightly. “At least until the chocolate runs out.”

House poured another stream of chocolate; this one decorated Wilson's chest for about ten seconds before House began licking it off. Wilson opened his trousers and kicked them off, then sent his shorts the same way. House pushed him down on his back.

“You should spend some time in the gym,” House said, trying to write his initials in chocolate across Wilson's abdominals. “Get yourself a sixpack for me to eat out of.”

Wilson snorted with laughter, then quickly composed himself as House's chin lightly grazed his crotch when the older man began licking the chocolate off. “I'll go to the gym if you'll shave every day. Your stubble itches.”

House rubbed his chin over Wilson's stomach, getting a face full of chocolate. “That's why I keep it. Perfect for making _your_ face all red and raw.”

“Hang on,” Wilson interrupted, pulling House to him to lick off the chocolate sauce on his chin. “Let me get this for you...”

House pressed their bodies together, ensuring that the chocolate got everywhere before he pulled off. “What do you say, Jimmy? Enough with the foreplay?”

“For now,” Wilson agreed, pushing the chocolate sauce out of the way before rolling House onto his back. “Me on top?”

“You do all the work, I kick back and relax,” House said, smirking.

Wilson reached for the bedside drawer. House had suggested that they use chocolate for lube once, but Wilson protested he didn't like it _that_ rough. They kept some watermelon flavoured gel lube handy, near the bed.

“Funny, that,” House said, voice deep and smooth. “How we always have so much fun with foreplay, and no fun with prepping you.”

Wilson hastily coated House's cock in lube, then smeared a little around his own entrance. “A matter of priorities,” he said, throwing the lube to the side of the bed. “I'd rather have actual intercourse than being prepped.”

House, chocolate smears still on his cheeks, lay perfectly still while Wilson guided him to slip inside the younger man. They were both sticky, sweaty and eager by now. And everything tasted of chocolate.

“Ah, shit, House,” Wilson moaned, sinking down on the other man. “Fuck!”

“You always talk so dirty, Jimmy,” House grunted, hands on Wilson's hips.

Wilson began moving, utilizing every leg muscle he'd ever known to slide up and down House's length. The chocolate was teaming up with House's cock to make him moan desperately, and his hands were gripping House's sides.

“And to think... you wanted... to do paperwork,” House panted, neck straining as his head shot back into the pillows. “Jimmy...”

“Uhn!” Wilson agreed, riding the older man faster. His skin felt on fire; he fisted himself roughly and stroked.

“No fair,” House panted, nails digging into the soft flesh of Wilson's hips. “You'll finish... way... before me!”

Wilson's mouth was hanging open, his eyes were scrunched shut. He stroke faster, moved faster, clenched around House. When the older man groaned loudly, Wilson gave himself a flick of his thumb and came, spurting over House's stomach and chest, moaning House's name.

“Greg! Greg! Oh, fuck, Greg!”

Determined to make the older man come, Wilson rocked a few more times, hands going to House's chest. He bucked his hips against House's, panting, heaving for breath and so blown after his own orgasm...

And then House came, arching off the bed, and Wilson cried out again, feeling House fill him with his come, his body drawing on the older man's cock hungrily.

“Jimmy!” House grunted, hands still clawing at his hips.

And Wilson slowed down, rocking only a few times more before slowly moving off the older man, lying down beside him on the bed. He kissed House once, on the lips, lingering over the taste of chocolate.

“Ah, that does it for me every time,” House said, short of breath and grinning evilly. “Chocolate coated Wilson. Mm.”

Wilson blushed a little, mainly because of the way House was looking at him. He was looking very un-House-ish.

“I guess I'm happy about coming home with you instead of doing my very important paperwork,” Wilson conceded, stealing a glance at House. “But stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you probably looked at Stacy once,” Wilson said, reaching for the covers. They could deal with the mess in the morning; it was late.

“And here I was, thinking our relationship had changed _priority_ ,” House said drily. He settled in underneath the covers with the other man, lying comfortably close without actually cuddling.

Wilson was silent for a moment, then... “Do you want it to?”

House was silent, but Wilson knew him better than that. By coming back to the office, by making Wilson choose between paperwork and chocolate sauce, the gruff doctor had clearly stated that he was serious about them. And Wilson found he liked the idea. They'd take it from there, then.

“All right. We're agreed, then.”

House still didn't say anything, but Wilson could see him fight off a smile.

“Next time, we'll get the caramel sauce,” Wilson said. “My favourite.”

House turned his head, then, and grinned widely at Wilson before turning out the lights. “I'm so glad you've gotten your priorities in order.”


End file.
